Canyssa's Choice
by Flying Squirrel 15
Summary: Nyssa, Char and Ella's daughter, is young and headstrong. But when her mother sickens, she must search the kingdom, for a cure to the plague that is sweeping across the land- and discover more about herself than she ever knew. Chap 9 up!
1. I don't know if she will live

Okay, this is not exactly a sequel to Char's Choice, because it's not told from the same point of view, but IT'S CLOSE ENOUGH!!! Mesa hope u enjoy this story, 'cause if you don't... (du du du) well, we'll leave it at that. I want only CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM, not "you have a comma in the wrong place." I don't care about grammar, u can just live with that. Okay? Okay. Now we'll start.  
  
Canyssa ran through the garden, shrieking with laughter, happy to be alive. The sky above her was a brilliant shade of blue, contrasted sharply by the bright sun and soft clouds, which seemed to simply dance across the sky while the wind blew gently. The trees waved as the wind whooshed through them, their new leaves tiny and budding. New grass was coming up, green and strong alongside the wild violets with their shades of blue and purple. Today was truly the first day of spring.  
  
Nyssa slowed to a stop, still smiling, her cheeks red with excitement (think- where have you heard that before?) Her hands reached out to touch each familiar object that she had missed so much during the winter, where the deep snow had covered everything in sight. Canyssa remembered all too well here thirteenth winter, unlucky. She had hardly gone outside once, and when she did, she of course caught a chill, which her parents said, "taught her a lesson." But dear, kind Mandy had nursed her, never once saying it was wrong to go outside against all their better judgments.   
  
Nyssa shivered, remembering how awful that had been. But she quickly banished those thoughts from her mind. After all, that had been months ago, and the last of the snow had melted a three mere days before. There was still a slight chill in the air, but one of freshness, that promised a warming soon, very soon. Nyssa sat down on her favorite rock, a large flat one, greeting the familiar object which she had brooded on so many times. She ran her fingers through the deep stream that ran right by it and sighed. It was still too cold for swimming.  
  
But, of course, tis never too early for dreaming. Nyssa leaned her back against the willow tree, simply drinking in the beauty. She always looked forward to spring. There was her birthday ,of course, for one thing. She would be turning fourteen. And during the spring, she would spend as much time as possible outdoors, away from everyone, alone with her thoughts.  
  
Nyssa especially loved this spot where she was now. The tall grass surrounding the rock and the willow tree right behind, always green and strong from the cool stream that ran right by. Nyssa closed her eyes, smiling, and relaxed, letting the tree hold her as the birds sang sweetly. It was all so peaceful...  
  
"Canyssa! Lady Canyssa!"  
  
Nyssa was rudely jerked awake as the call came to her ears, loud and clear. Annoyed, she got up.  
  
"Princess! Lady Canyssa!"  
  
A figure came stumbling into view. Nyssa sighed. It was only Will. That all lanky boy of fifteen winters that apprenticed Mandy in the kitchens. And why did he always insist on calling her Canyssa? How she hated that lady-like name! Nyssa suited her much better, but there was no use in telling him that.  
  
Will looked up from his feet, sighted her, started to smile and call out her name-  
  
And promptly fell, his too-long legs getting the better of him again.  
  
Nyssa picked up her skirts and ran to where he lay sprawled in the grass. She helped him up, reprimanding all the way. "You foolish boy! You ought to look at where you put your feet. Perhaps then you wouldn't be stumbling up so much."  
  
But Will did not seem to hear her. "Princess!" he said urgently. "I have a message for you, containing vital news." Nyssa was about to dismiss this "vital news," for Will was easily excited and worried, but stopped at the look in his eyes.  
  
"Char just found her this morning!" he wailed on. "Only a few hours ago, and I've been searching for you ever since, and oh, Princess, I don't know if she'll live..."  
  
Nyssa did not hear the rest of the message, for she was running as fast as her legs would carry her in the direction of the palace, with fear growing in her heart...  
  
oh yeah. didn't flow very well, but i waz half asleep when i wrote some. chap. dedication 2 anyone who thinks they know whats wrong, or the first person who reviews 2 answer my question farther up. amember, things are not always as they seem... 


	2. I know how much you love her

*you evil people, you're not reviewing enough, except of course for Firepixie0071 and Shortyst1, my first reviewers! thanx so much, this chapter is for you. (good, Eowyn not LOTR!, thanx Firepixie!)  
  
okay, im not updating till i get 10 reviews... from different people. hey , i like this story, and so should you. in fact, i like it SO MUCH, that i am going to end this and start writing the next chapter right now, to save you the torture.*  
  
Nyssa's breathing was ragged, and her throat was red and raw from trying so hard to keep the air pumping through her lungs, that life-giving air that was the only thing keeping going forward, except for the desperate thought to find out what was wrong at the place she called home. She now wished she had stayed longer, back at the garden, if only for a moment, for every moment more that she was away could mean the death of someone she loved.  
  
Exactly where and when was "she" found, and (the question that Nyssa did not even want to consider) who was "she." Someone she was close to obviously. Perhaps Berthe (pronounced BERTH-EE), whom she jokingly called Birdie? One of the servants perhaps? Surely not Mandy! As far as she knew, Mandy had never been sick a day in her life! And if not any of those people, then perhaps... No, no, it couldn't be. Not her dear, darling mother! Her stomach clenched at the very thought, and she quickly banished the though from her mind, concentrating on running, on the simple task of putting one foot in front of the other, again and again and again and again...  
  
For the first time in her life, Nyssa regretted how large the palace grounds were. She was so tired, perhaps it would be best to just lay down and rest, and leave the rest of the world to its own problems...  
  
"No!" The word burst out of her mouth in a last effort to keep her going, towards the palace that was looming closer by the step. Oddly, that made Nyssa want to run slower, to know that she was so close to her goal, to know that so soon she would find rest perhaps she should slow down. She pushed the thought away angrily, and concentrated on going the last few steps before stumbling through the curved oak doors that decorated the palace, carved with images of fairies, to keep away evil spirits that would bid them no good. A lot they helped, Nyssa thought bitterly.  
  
She sped through the palace where she had lived for all her life, her eyes darting from one familiar objet to another, in her search to find someone, anyone, who might know something. Frantic, she ran into a large shape, something soft and yielding. "Mandy!" she sobbed in relief.  
  
"Good gracious child, slow down. Nyssa darling, what it is?"  
  
But poor Nyssa, exhausted could not gather her thoughts, and could only remember one thing. "Father!" she gasped. "I need to see my father!"  
  
"Last time I saw, he was in the stables," answered a bewildered Mandy.  
  
Nyssa paused only for a moment to wonder why by the holy candle trees he would be in the stables, when her mother could be sick and dying, before dashing off toward them. Perhaps he was getting a horse to send for a doctor. Mandy called after her. "Nyssa, wait! What..."  
  
But she was away, already far away from Mandy's distant form. The darkness of the castle halls, then the castle courtyard with the blazing sun, she too desperate to feel it work it's calming magic it usually did. Then cool air, once again, as she finally, finally, reached her goal of the stable, of her father. "Father?" she called out as she slowed to a walk, exhilarated.  
  
"Nyssa!"  
  
She was enveloped in a strong hug, like the ones only her father could give, and relaxed, suddenly thrown back into that childhood belief that her parents could make anything right.  
  
"I'm sorry girl," he said in a husky voice. "I know how much you love her."  
  
Nyssa's tears fell freely, her worst fears finally confirmed. "No," she whispered into the darkness, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the truth. She wanted to scream out how it wasn't fair, this shouldn't be happening to her, how she loved her mother so much...  
  
"Would you like to see her?"  
  
Nyssa nodded, expecting her father to lead her up to her mother's bedroom, but instead he just showed her to the side. Nyssa's eyes finally began to adjust to the deep shadows, and as she saw a familiar shape that she recognized, she gasped with horror. This was worse than she realized...  
  
*ha, let you stew over that. you evil people have not reviewed, so i've decided that im going to torture you a little more, not tell you what the "urgent message" is yet, even though it should be pretty obvious by now. Please also read Char's Choice!* 


	3. Jort, gor jort

ahhhhh! i didnt write a disclaimer yet! ok, i do not own ella or char, or mandy, or any of the other characters that come from ella enchanted, or the little bit of elvish that is used in this chapter, that too is from the book. whew!  
  
okay, thats over. sorry i havent updated 4 a while. 2 stories 2 manage is just to much 4 me. forgive me, and enjoy this chap.  
  
As soon as she thought that, Nyssa chided herself for being selfish. "Thank goodness!" she cried, not knowing whether it was tears of sorrow or relief that she shed.  
  
"Thank goodness?" her father said sharply. "Nyssa, what has gotten into you.?"  
  
"Oh father, I didn't get the whole message from Will, and I thought... I thought... Mother..."  
  
Her father understood immediately, and scooped her up into his arms as if she were no more than five years of age. He rubbed her back gently. "Jort, got jort," he murmured in Elvish. Converting back to Kyrrian, he said, "Tis okay, Sadie. Dear Sadie, she'll be okay." Using his childhood nickname for Nyssa calmed her down. She sniffed once or twice, and crawled over to the still figure lying there on the soft bed of hay.  
  
It was Nyssa's dear mare, Mia Roxanne. Mia. She ran her hands over Mia's sort, pure white side, barely going up and down with the rhythm of her light breathing. A single, pearly tear fell from Nyssa's starry blue eye, and shined brilliantly for just one moment before splashing onto Mia. Nyssa stroked her head, fondly recalling all the beautiful times they had had together. She sank back into time, loving her horse, loving Mia.  
  
_ She was eight years old. The day was a special one, her birthday. She had received many gifts, exquisite presents, even a necklace from the fairy Lucinda. A slim silver chain that sparkled enchantedly, with a single teardrop on the end for decoration. Her parents had led her outside to the pasture, where there were supposed to be games for everyone. Instead, a white horse came galloping towards her, a loud, sweet whinny filling the air. Nyssa laughed joyfully, here eight year old self feeling wild and free. She knew with all her heart, with a certainty that had never been there before, that this beautiful horse belonged to her. She knew with equal certainty that she belonged to the horse just as much as it belonged to her.  
  
Nyssa ran towards the horse, and patted her head. Her mother and father came up beside her, beaming. "What would you like her to be called?" asked the queen, kneeling beside her.  
  
"Mia. Mia Roxanne." answered Nyssa, recalling a story book character from long ago, whom she had admired. She looked up into the horse's eyes. The name suited her.  
  
Her father held his hands solemnly over the horse's head. "I christen you... Mia Roxanne!"  
  
_ Nyssa smiled at the memory, but tears covered her vision, turning everything into a blur of crystalline color.  
  
_Nyssa ran outside, sobbing. Her dear friend, the only one the same age as her, ten at the moment, was moving away to a kingdom far from Kyrria. No one had been able to comfort her about this. She refused to let them, for she would never see her friend Arthya again. Nyssa just wanted to be alone. She threw herself in the soft grass, still slick with dew drops, and vowed never to get up, never, ever, ever. Alone, all alone.  
  
She felt warm air being blown down the back of her neck, and a tongue licking her ear. "Go away, Mia. I need to be alone." But the horse persisted, paying no heed to her request. Nyssa buried her head in her arms, but could not stop the horse from nuzzling her hair affectionately. Reluctantly, Nyssa rose to her feet, yielding to Mia. She draped herself over the horse's neck, and together they slowly walked back to the palace, Mia helping her friend through this hard time, and Nyssa, seeking comfort, and getting it.  
_  
Nyssa remembered this day well, and it still hurt. She never had seen Arthya again, but Mia reminded her that there was still hope of that. But for Mia, was there any? Would she ever again ride on her back, and laugh out loud, feeling free?  
  
_ It was the spring of her twelfth year. Nyssa was riding on Mia's back, falling up and down with the rhythm of her stride. Nyssa threw back her head and laughed joyfully, and Mia let loose a loud whinny, and galloped faster. Nyssa leaned in close, trusting her. They simply cut through the air like a hot knife through butter, almost flying. Horse and rider became one, like human and daemon, thinking each other's thoughts, instinctively knowing where the other would turn, and moved together. They flowed into one...  
  
For just one moment.  
_  
Nyssa looked up, exhausted from the memories and the tears. She looked down on Mia, her proud body, even now, still looking beautiful and strong. Nyssa turned her tear-stained face upwards, towards her father. "Oh father, will she live?"  
  
Mia's definitely based on Shadowfax. (If that's how you spell that odd name for a white horse. I mean, Shadow?) Anyway, Gandalf's horse. Review quickly, and I will luv u forever, and i will also update! Come on, its not hard, click on the pretty blue button, and type a couple sentences. i promise, it wont kill u. By T. Way- The "a" and the "e" in daemon are supposed to be connected, just like in the book, but i couldnt do that. 


	4. Fairies can't tell the future!

Her father averted his eyes. "I don't know." Nyssa fixed her stare. still holding Mia's head. "Father, what's wrong with her?"  
  
He hesitated, then answered. "Nyssa, I know how important she is to you, so I had the finest doctors in the land examine her." Here he paused, and Nyssa's breath caught in her throat. "They all claim this sickness is like nothing they have seen before, and, unfortunately, it is quite serious. None of them have a cure." He looked away.  
  
No. This just couldn't be true. It just couldn't be. Nyssa had a sudden, childish impulse to put her hands to her ears and scream, "I can't hear you!" But she took a deep breath, and the desire passed. Nyssa gave Mia's head one last pat, and slowly walked with her father up to the palace.  
  
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *  
  
Nyssa threw herself down on the bed, and hugged her two dolls, Flora and Rosamunde to her, inherited from her mother. Unknowingly, she sought comfort from them just as Ella had, after her mother died. The thought would have sent a chill down her spine, had she known.  
  
Her eyes were red from crying, but no more tears would come. Nyssa felt numb, as if in a nightmare, a hellish nightmare that she would wake up from at any moment. But alas, she was not living in a dream, but in a nightmarish reality, from which there was no awakening.  
  
How could the doctors not know what was wrong with Mia? They were the finest in the land, just as her father had told her, and well known to be able to diagnose any disease, and cure it as well. If they didn't know what was wrong with Mia, dear Mia, she must have a brand-new disease, from some unknown source, and the doctors haven't a clue. She sat bolt upright. If it was a new disease, that meant there was no cure.  
  
A knock sounded on the door. It was Mandy. She lifted her skirts and sat down heavily on the canopy bed with the violet and dark blue covers, making it creak and groan. "Dear me," Mandy chuckled, puffing heavily. "All those stairs to get up here. "I don't know how you manage." Nyssa showed no sign that she had heard.  
  
"Now, it's not as bad as that."  
  
Nyssa whirled up, furious, screaming. "How do you know? How do you know what will happen? Fairies can't tell the future! She might die! You don't know a thing about death. She not your horse, so you don't care!"  
  
"I have seen more deaths of ones I love than you could bear in one thousand lifetimes," said Mandy quietly, standing up to leave. "And each the time, the hurt gets worse, and the pain deepens." She left, without another word.  
  
A long time after Mandy left, Nyssa lay there, motionless, thinking.  
  
Dinner was a quiet affair. The only sound in the Dining Hall was the clink of Ayorthian silverware against plates of the same kind, given to Ella as a wedding present from her friend, Arieda.  
  
Nyssa looked down at her plate, ashamed of herself. Mandy did not deserve that. She had always been kind, trying to comfort Nyssa at all times. And that little dig about Mandy not knowing anything about death because she was immortal... Nyssa spooned another bite of wild rice into her mouth, and though about the doctors not having a cure. She took a sip of water, and thought about Mia. She ate her quail egg, dessert, and thought about how she would apologize to Mandy. And no one said a word.  
  
Nyssa woke up from a deep sleep. Perhaps it was the quail eggs she thought, remembering the story about Ella and the Elvish mushrooms. Suddenly, she realized her window was open, probably what had woke her. She shivered, as a cold draft blew in, stirring her chestnut brown hair that was loosely tied with a velvet blue ribbon. Nyssa got out of bed, the floor cold on her bare feet. Her white nightgown streamed out behind her as she walked closer to the window. And closer.  
  
She reached her hand up, as if to close it, but something stopped her. Why should she close the window? There was no real reason to. Something beckoned Nyssa to peer out, out into the gloom of night, and she obeyed.  
  
A shadow. A dark shadow, almost as if death itself had come from the fiery gates of hell itself, covering everything it passed in darkness of the deepest kind. A slight motion behind her caused Nyssa to spin around. Her mother stood there, dressed in a loosely flowing material, of what color, Nyssa could not say. Now it was black, now white.  
  
The queen smiled that gentle smile of hers that Nyssa loved so dearly, and walked forward, towards Nyssa, towards the window, and the dark shadow, which had crept up to the palace walls, and was now lurking in wait. Ella walked up to the window, and motioned for Nyssa to follow to wherever she may go.  
  
Nyssa stepped forward, unsure, but trusting her mother. Ella seemed to float, as she stepped out of the window into the embrace of the dark shadow.  
  
Nyssa screamed in frustration. The window was like a locked door between her and her mother. She was gone, into the dark mist which now covered everything as far as the eye could see, and could not be stopped. Gone.  
  
And Nyssa could not follow.  
  
*well, how you like that? to bad u can't tell me. wait- oh my gosh, you can! *gasps in "surprise"* u just click on that pretty blue button down in the left corner that says "review" and you can tell me how great this chappe was, and 2 keep writing! yea!* 


	5. The Silence of Death

yea, i've finally updated! (gosh, it took me long enough) sorry 'bout that, school and everything, end of year flurry, etc. etc. special thanx to dragonfirechick, just because 'cause she is awesome!  
  
Nyssa woke up screaming with rage, tense and reared up, pounding at the air with her fists clenched tightly. She woke from a nightmare into a living one. Her sobs calmed, her breathing slowed. Then reality came flooding back.  
  
Many weeks had passed since Mia Roxanne had become ill. The doctors could not come for a mere horse anymore. How Nyssa had screamed and protested at that! Not any horse, a royal one! But to no avail.  
  
It had spread. People and animals from near and far were now getting the White Death, as it was now called in the most secret of meetings, whispered from ear to ear. Horrid, white spots would appear on but the lightest of skin, or fur. Then the wretched victim of the sickness would turn a deathly pale white. They died four days later, to the minute the ghostly white came upon their weakening bodies. No exceptions.  
  
At first, the being would feel only hot and tired, as if from strenuous work, or over exertion. They would lie down for a rest, and wake up hours later, numb all over, and covered with white spots. They would fight the sickness (oh, how heroically they would fight at first!) but they would weaken, some sooner, some later, and that's when the total whiteness triumph. Four days.  
  
Her dream. The shadow. A black shadow passing on a white death. Nyssa laughed bitterly. Oh, the irony of it all. Her mother, gone.  
  
Her mother!  
  
Gone, no, she couldn't be! It's impossible for the queen to contact the sickness. Her dream must have been only that, a dream.  
  
Foolishly, Nyssa leapt out of her scarlet and gold covered bed sheets, and ran lightly across the stone floor to the window. The same window her dear mother had gone of.  
  
It was open.  
  
Nyssa's stomach plunged with terror at the open window, so similar to the one in her dream, at yet, at the same time, so different, so very different. However, she still half expected to see a dark shadow over the city when she cast her terrified eyes out. But there was only the marketplaces, the houses of the villagers, the manors. But over everything lay a silence, deeper and louder than everything Nyssa had ever heard before. It was not the mysterious silence of night fall, nor the disappointed silence of her father when she had done something against his wishes. Not the empty silence of a deserted mansion, and definitely not the peaceful silence of two young lovers in the moonlight. It was the dreaded silence of a sickness, of everyone holding their breath, of the silent grief of loved ones, lost forever.  
  
Unknown to Nyssa, the same silence had been heard by her grandsire, King Jerrold, when his elder brother lay dying of an epidemic, passing the crown to him. It was the silence of death.  
  
No happy laughter of children as they ran through the streets playing games would reach Nyssa's ears on this day. No chatter of market girls, nor the shouts of merchants trying to sell their wares. No barking of dogs, or horse hooves clomping over the cobblestone. Every public place was deserted, and every person held their breath as they huddled in their homes, waiting for the shadow of death to pass over them and turn to another helpless victim.  
  
A baby's wailing cry broke the silence, but stopped abruptly as it had begun, stifled. Nyssa spun around suddenly as she heard a loud creak outside her door, stifling a startled shriek of surprise. A cold wind blew in through the open window, then dissipated, leaving no sign of its presence except the raised bumps on Nyssa's arms. Her hand flew to her mouth as suddenly, her doorknob turned slowly. The door creaked open, and a figure dressed in black stood waiting outside.  
  
read Char's Choice, chapter- King Jerrold's Past for more info.  
  
I'm sorry it was so short, i had to write it in Language Arts class when we were supposed to be working on our homework, and i got into a really melancholy mood in the silence. (hence the title) hope you don't send too many negative reviews ('cause of COURSE you're going to send reviews) becuse my muse has taken a vacation, and this was the best i could cough up. cough cough cough coughha he. oh yeah, i don't own char or ella or mandy or anyone else in ella enchanted, i just own nyssa and Berthe/Birdie and anyone else i come up with! mwa hahaha! this chap is dedicated to dragonfirechick for being my e-mail buddy! smile! yeah, please review (please please please _please!)_


	6. The First Fay

The door opened further, and a candle lit the wild, worried face of Mandy. Nyssa's face was blank and expressionless. Mandy's plump frame swept into the room, and her cloak was revealed not to be a black, but a deep, midnight blue. "Are you all right?" she nearly shrieked. "Is anything wrong?" Nyssa's cold, dark head shook no, with not even a breath of air to stir that perfect arrangement of chestnut hair draped around her pale, pale face that hung so forbiddingly. Mandy's eyes danced wildly over the room. "I heard screaming, and loud voices. I thought it came from here." Nyssa gave a small, stifled shriek, as if from pain, but still, not a word passes out of her mouth. Mandy's eyes rolled back in her head, and in a possessed voice she whispered, "The Voices. They're back." She staggered back a few steps, putting one hand on the doorknob, as if ready to flee.  
  
A horror-laden scream echoed down the hall, and a soft moan followed. A lady-in-waiting lay dead, terror etched across her pale face, her wasted body gaunt and sunken, never to move again. Her family covered her body with white sheet, and turned their faces away.  
  
Two score livestock lay dead or dying. The horses held up extremely well; none yet had died. A page was dying, was due to die in two days. A young knight lay under the cold, hard ground before his time; three other had fled, and more would surely follow. Moans of pain filled the castle, nervous hands fluttered from patient to patient. None who had contacted the Death had survived- not yet.  
  
_ Fairies can't tell the future. But way back in the beginning of time, when the Icsanvar flower opened, and hundreds upon thousands of fairies spilled out into the first break of dawn, a Voice echoed among the mountains and over the waters, sailing to the highest heights of the sky. "You are all destined for greatness, to change the coarse of the Earth. Your should purpose is to help and to heal, each lifetime of yours 100 of a humans'. Live for today; you must not dwell in the past, or on the future, no matter what it may bring. May you leave your mark upon this earth." There was a great flash of light, and they were gone, scattered to the four corners of the earth. But for one.  
  
A small fairy with large, almond eyes lay straining upwards, left behind out of a pure accident. She could walk no further than a few steps, for her left leg was lame. So the Voice scooped her up, and cradled her in his arms, and crooned to the lame fairy, "Forgive me my child. And since I left you with a lame leg, I grant to you a glorious gift. You, of all the fairies, will be able to see into the future. But I warn you, this gift is not what it seems. It will not be constant, nor always clear. Only when the need is great shall it rise up, and the message you are left with will not always be as if made of crystal. Be patient, and in due time, you will know."  
  
The fairy spun and danced with joy, but the Voice was not yet done. "With this gift will come other joys, and yes, tragedies as well. For there will come a time in the near future when the One that is All Powerful will offer the choice of life or knowledge in the fateful Garden of Eden, and knowledge will be chosen. So therefore, since you will have knowledge, there will also be death. When your brothers and sisters of the Icsanvar walk the earth 100 lifetimes of men, you will see only fifty. When your brothers and sisters linger on, you will die, but die happy, for this is the last part of my gift.  
  
"A child is within you, and before you die, a descendant shall be born, with your gift, and they will give birth to one with the same. And so it shall continue, until the ending of this world shall come.   
  
"Go now Lulia, first of the Icsanvar fays.  
  
"Go now, follow, and peace shall be made."  
  
And the fairy went, to the rich, golden land now called Kyrria. After a time, for fairy babes take as much or as little time as they choose to be born, Lulia left her child's spirit under a willow tree, and there it matured until the break of dawn when it emerged, showering it's light and joy around, fully grown and learned with the spirit of a new child already with the gift within them, and Lulia found a quiet place to die, for without the spirit of the new fairy sustaining her, she would pass. _(A/N- the other lines of fairies would have children in the usual way, with humans or other fays.)_ And so this went, until fay Belinda spawned a fairy named Mandy, with an unusually strong soul. But there was another soul at work inside Belinda.  
  
By flaw, she had a strong soul and a weaker one inside of her. After leaving the strong, the weaker one sustained her, so she didn't die immediately after leaving the soul under the willow, like the others of her line did. The weaker one fed it's power into her, and she lingered past her time.  
  
Belinda finally realized what was inside of her, and devastated, she left the soul under the willow, as was the custom, and passed on. But it was too late. The weak soul had fed too much of it's power into her to keep her body alive, and the Gift did not come through. The weak fairy was left with nothing but a pretty face, more foolishness than most, and a name.  
  
Lucinda.  
  
_(A/N- So how are Mandy and Lucinda related? You figure it out. Do they know? You tell me. hint HINT!)  
  
_ This time, the time of the White Death was a time of great need. Fairies can't tell the future- but for one.  
  
_ Voices filled Mandy's head, shouts, screams, prophesies. Her continued muttering grew louder, and her eyes rolled back in her head. Then they stopped, and again, the loudest thing heard was silence. Nyssa was still staring straight ahead, unheeding, and deathly pale. Mandy took one uncertain step toward her. "Nyssa-"  
  
Nyssa suddenly screamed. "Don't leave me!" she wailed. "You can't go, I need you! Don't die!" Then, her face whiter than chalk, she toppled onto the stone floor, and lay still.  
  
ha, leave you with that. i hoped you like it, i thought it was pretty good myself. i know they say fairies are immortal in EE, so if you want me to explain the contradiction of my story, you have to ask, and give me ideas to help out! 


	7. And so, I drifted

really, you must forgive me for not updating sooner, i have a cast and can only type with one hand, which takes awhile. this chap. is sorta short and vague, so if you need clarification, feel free to e-mail.  
  
The doctor straightened up with a sigh, stretching his cramped back. "It's not the White Death," he announced. Char and Mandy both breathed sighs of relief, but Ella's eyes were still anxious.  
  
"How can you be sure?" Her face was wet with tears, and her black mourning dress was rumpled, but her voice still carried authority, and the doctor (who happened to be quite a high doctor himself, and a fairly good looking one as well, with wavy dark hair) squirmed under her gaze.  
  
"There are certain- signs," he began haltingly, "and she has none of them. No clamminess, her breath remains warm, she does not appear weakened, and best of all, her color is returning." He finished triumphantly.  
  
"Her pulse, is it strong?"  
  
" Wellll... yes," said the doctor hesitantly, "but that is completely irrelevant. The majority of my patients have had strong heartbeats until they... until the end." He smiled apologetically.  
  
Ella knelt by Nyssa's side, and clasped her hand gently as she herself stared into blank, unseeing eyes. _"Kel dae rauko. Gweth fea baur na rhenio palon,"_ she murmured to her, and straightened up.  
  
The door suddenly burst open, and a girl of fourteen ran through, stopping abruptly when she saw Char and Ella standing there, looking grave. Her sweet, comely face bore a startled expression, and she tried to back out quickly, muttering excuses about mistaking the rooms, but sweet Ella took her arm, and gently drew her back in.  
  
"It's all right, Berthe," she smiled sadly. "There are no strangers here. We know you want to see Nyssa." Berthe nodded thankfully, and rushed forward to her, reaching out her hand. But she drew it back at the last second, as if she had touched a red-hot coal, straight out of a fire. In a way, she had, for Nyssa's face bore a terrified expression, as if she had seen the fires of _Mandu_ itself.  
  
Berthe gazed at Nyssa, and then up at Ella, a single, startled tear running down her face. "She's so pale," the girl whispered tearfully. "Is it- is the- I mean, do you know- the Wh-"  
  
Ella knew exactly what she meant. "No, it isn't the White Death, thank _Menel_." She made the _Fea_ square on her forehead, which represented the four Essentials: water, air, earth, and spirit. Berthe clasped her friend's hand, running one finger over her pale knuckles, clenched tightly on dead air.  
  
"Can she hear us?"  
  
The doctor, always anxious to share his knowledge, interrupted eagerly. "She exhibits no affirmation that she is alert adequately so she manages to apperceive what we communicate," he began importantly, "however, her movements indicate she could conceivably be experiencing amphibological susceptibilities forthwith, so I conclude in saying-" He was cut off at a look from Ella.  
  
Char blinked. "Ah. What?"  
  
"He means 'no,'" translated Mandy impatiently.  
  
"Oh. Why didn't he just say so?"  
  
The doctor opened his mouth indignantly, but before he could say a word to defend himself, an excited shriek came from Berthe, who had been faithfully sitting by Nyssa's side ever since she had entered the room.   
  
"Did she move, did you see it?" she squealed, her voice filled with hope. Berthe clutched excitedly at Nyssa's hand. Everyone hurried over and stared at Nyssa, gazing over her to look for the slightest hint of movement, holding their breaths as if breathing in would suck Nyssa's life away.  
  
Nyssa's POV  
  
I sank in and out of darkness, feeling hot, feeling cold. Images of family, friends, animals; they all drifted in my vision. My mother singing me to sleep; Arthya leaning out of the carriage window, waving to me a last farewell; Mia tossing her head, her shiny mane silhouetted against the blue sky; Aunt Cecilia hugging me; the palace at midnight, looming cold and gray against a brilliant, mesmerizing full moon... All these I saw, but did not recognize.  
  
I remembered crying out, once or twice, but no one heard, for my voice caught in the bottomost depths of my throat, choking me, and I remained silent.  
  
A kind face swam before my vision: a gnome. I managed to recognize her as the one I used to visit often in the menagerie. zhatapH, the wise one. Two other faces appeared, smiling comfortingly at me. Berthe, and my mother. They began to sing softly in Elvish, their voices blending together in harmony, smooth words rolling around a tune like nothing I had heard before, but at the same time, so farmiliar. But how?  
  
The tune itself became meaningless as the gnome's face shone clearer, and Berthe and my mother dimmed, their song barely a whisper, but still there, still strong. zhatapH's deep wrinkles were etched sharply in her face, falling against each other like waves as she smiled, and held her hands out to me, invitingly.  
  
"Come, child." She spoke without words, without even moving her lips from that warm smile. "Come, listen, for I have great things to tell you, and you must remember, for many depend upon you."  
  
Though her face remained gentle, the gnome bore an air of seriousness that had me straining my ears so I wouldn't miss a word of what she said.  
  
"The future of Kyrria could very well depend on you, so listen, and remember." I tried to protest. I was only a girl, I couldn't help, there was nothing I could do to save one person, let alone Kyrria. But zhatapH stopped me.  
  
"Yes, child, it is true," she breathed. "Now listen.  
  
'Three shall walk on journey's way,  
  
but only two return; one shall stay.  
  
Two young maidens, one young man,  
  
Shall save Kyrria from the White Death's hand.  
  
Some shall die, some may live,  
  
if a cure to them you give.'  
  
Go now child, hurry, you must, find it and return to us."  
  
zhatapH's face faded, but her voice lingered, one last message to convey to me. "Hurry Nyssa, before..."  
  
"What?" I screamed. "Before what?" I was granted only a single word before she was gone, along with Berthe and my mother.  
  
"Go..."  
  
That was when I woke up, moaning, to see five anxious faces above me, staring.  
  
i am so sorry it's short, but i wanted to get something out. it took me so long that i got my cast off! i'll try to get another chap. out soon, but summer band takes up so much of my time! everyone, read Misty of Athrogon by Firepixie0071, because that is the best story ever and deserves to be published!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! in case you didn't know (and youp robably didn't) the italic words that you do not recognize are Elvish. some's from EE, some from LOTR. i promise i will try to develop the plot a little more, and sorry, ella is not going to come into this story much. this is still an intro. basically, and i haven't even gotten going on the actual story! (mwa haha!) i hoped you enjoyed, look forward to another chappe ASAP! and oh yeah, you're welcome to give me suggestions for the plot


	8. I did not want to remember

I choked. I gasped. I felt as if I had been locked in a cage of stale air, and was just now being released. "She's coming to!" a voice above me cried. A voice I knew, and loved. That alone encouraged me to swim through the inky blackness in my mind to meet that voice, and the person it belonged to.  
  
My head swam, but the more I blinked, the cleared the blurs- faces- above me became. At last, I recognized my father, my mother, Mandy, and Berthe. There was one face I did not recognize, but I was too tired to try to figure out who the person was.  
  
"Nyssa? Nyssa, can you hear me?" My mother. A great sense of calm swept over me, and I almost burst with relief. My mother was here. Everything would be put to rights.  
  
"Nyssa? _Nyssa?"_ Her voice contained a note of panic. Oh yeah. She had asked a question. I began to nod, quickly, to reassure her, but stopped rapidly, for it made my head pound. I clutched at it. Oh, well. Better try the old vocal cords. I tried to say,'I'm fine, I can hear you,' but such a noise came out, it must have sounded like I was dying.  
  
My mother rushed at me, but I weakly held up a hand to stop her, while I coughed and hacked. Finally, I took a deep breath. "Yes," I choked out. I heard such sighs of relief then that it seemed as if everyone had been holding their breath for the past five minutes. I would have laughed wildly, but I knew it would only make me cough more, and my throat already felt raw, and scraped.  
  
"Water," I croaked out, and a water skin was lifted to my lips. I drank in deep, slow sips, and my thirst was quenched.  
  
The hands that held the water skin dropped, and I realized who their owner was, a fraction before they spoke. "Nyssa, remember me?" Of course I did. Who could forget such a loyal and good friend as-  
  
"Berthe."  
  
"Nyssa, drink this. It will help return your strength."  
  
"Mandy." I said each of their names in turn.  
  
"Berthe, Mandy, Mother, Father, and-" I squinted. Who was this man?  
  
"Excuse me sir," I said in my best manner. "I don't believe we've met."  
  
"Allow me to introduce myself," he smiled. "I am Nicholas Galetree, formerly known as _Sir_ Nicholas Galetree." He bowed gallantly, still smiling. A former knight!  
  
"It was Sit Galetree that has been caring for you," explained Mandy, blushing slightly.  
  
I smiled at him, and sipped at the liquid in my bowl. A spicy carrot taste came to my mouth, Mandy's trademark, and it seemed to warm me all the way down to the tips of my toes. I sipped eagerly, not even noticing the unicorn hairs that floated in the broth.  
  
The soup cleared my mind, and my head stopped pounding like a drum. And the quiet in the room was so intense, that I began to do some thinking. For instance: Why was I here? What was wrong with me? Was I sick, or even... dying? I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind, but it was enough. Everything came flooding back to me.  
  
Will, running. Mia, lying still. Whispers of an unknown disease that swept across the region, bringing death in its path. I screamed, and covered my ears. I did not want to remember. But the memories kept coming, even as I rocked back and forth in despair, desperate to keep my mind blank.  
  
My mother, floating out of a window, going where I could not. Moans as many lay dying. A despairing scream. Then nothing more.  
  
The White Death.  
  
Arms shook me. "Nyssa, wake up, you're dreaming."  
  
"What's wrong with her?"  
  
"Someone call a doctor, quick!"  
  
"There's one already here!"  
  
"Oh, right, sorry. Can you help her?"  
  
I was frightening them, I knew, but I could not stop sobbing. All the memories, all the pain. It was just too much. I could not bear it.  
  
But at last, my sobs ceased, and the arms dropped me, shaking no longer, and the shouts died away. Only when I opened my eyes did I realize that I had had them squeezed tightly shut. I wrenched them open, and light came flooding in. I had to ask, I had to! But I did not want to know.  
  
"Do I have the White Death?" There. I had said it.  
  
Five somber faces stared down at me, and a tear fell onto the coverlet. That was when I panicked.  
  
"Am I dying?" I screamed. "Am I as good as dead already? Have I entered my final four days?"  
  
My mother swooped down, and pulled the sheets up further to cover me. "No, dear," she soothed, "It's not the White Death, and you're not dying." My body went limp with relief. I would live! Then... what really happened?  
  
"Mandy." I directed my question at her, for she was the last person I remembered seeing, before now. "What happened? Why am I here?"  
  
"Well," she started, her hands twitching nervously, "you were in your room, just staring at the wall when I came in, because I though I had heard screaming. You didn't respond to anything I said. So, right when I was going to get help, you started screaming and shouting things, like 'Don't leave me!'" Ella took a step backwards, with a shocked expression on her face, and Char too wore an odd look.  
  
Mandy cleared her throat and continued, not noticing. "We brought you here, and you've been asleep for two sunsets."  
  
I took all that in. it made sense. I smiled, and nodded, and a great weariness came over me. My head sank into my pillows, and I went back to sleep. That night, I dreamed of chanting gnomes, and a hauntingly familiar tune that I couldn't quite remember.  
  
(A/N- This is still Nyssa's point of view, but she does not know what is happening in these next few paragraphs.)  
  
After they left Nyssa's room on tiptoe, Ella drew Mandy off to the side in an unused room. After peering out into the hall, she shut the door with a sharp click. A bewildered Mandy stared on as Ella paced across the floor, and then turned abruptly to fix Mandy with a piercing stare. "You said Nyssa shouted something before she fell." Sharp, and to the point.  
  
Mandy felt flustered, not quite sure how to respond. "Yes, Lady, she did in fact yell, rather odd things too. 'Don't go, I need you. You can't die.' Something like that, I can't quite remember. I was too busy running for help than to ponder her words." She gestured helplessly.  
  
Ella nodded curtly, and resumed pacing. After a few minutes of this, Mandy ventured to ask, "Lady, what is it? Is something wrong?"  
  
Ella started, and turned, as if she had forgotten Mandy was in the room. Mandy was surprised to see tears shining in Ella's eyes, but she was also smiling when she caught Mandy's hands excitedly. She gave a small skip like a little girl playing in the market, and Mandy's breath caught when Ella whispered, "I'm fairly sure, I mean... I do believe that Nyssa has the Gift." 


	9. Remembering with Laughter

Mandy and Char leaned over Ella as she ruffled through the pages of a thick, boring-looking book that proclaimed across the front, in gold, the words, 'Your Ancestors and the Way they Ruled: A Lesson For Young Kings.  
  
"I remember that book!" Char exclaimed suddenly. "It was used in one of my last lessons, taught to me by a scholar named Therold."  
  
Ella smiled sweetly. "Yes, I remember Therold. I _also _remember how _much_ you appreciated him, and his lessons." Her innocent look would have charmed baby birds from their nests, had there been any around, as she mercilessly teased Char, who rolled his eyes at her sarcasm.  
  
Mandy had a maddeningly knowing look on her face as she continued the jest. "Ah yes, Therold, my old friend. He told me many times how _well_ you paid attention in his lessons, and how he appreciated you attention span." She winked at Ella over Char's shoulder. Then-  
  
"You do know he's a fairy, don't you?" Mandy's eyes were wide, and her face was more innocent than Ella's had been a moment ago as she said this.  
  
Char's jaw dropped, and he spluttered, "_Therold?_ A _fairy?_ Then why-" A look of understanding dawned on his face as he muttered, "That would explain it. Always jabbering on about every single connection of fairies to the royal line. He wasted _days_ on a single paragraph, trying to pound all the episodes with magical beings into my head, all in vain. I suppose with another teacher, I would have found it all fascinating, but Therold... something about him. I hated him for it."  
  
He went on, as if to himself. "Perhaps his attitude, or him method of teaching... Out of sheer defiance, I refused to learn, especially the fairy bits." He sighed regretfully. "Now the only thing I remember is the two rulers who had a different room to eat in each day of the week."  
  
Mandy issued a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Ella turned from the book, hands on hips, feigning indignance. "Do you mean to tell me," she directed at Char, "that if you had only paid attention during your lessons, we wouldn't have to do all this searching through a world of nonsense to find a few sentences. You could have just spouted off what we needed to know like the book itself!"  
  
Char shrugged apologetically at his fuming wife, while Mandy's shoulders shook with ill-concealed mirth.  
  
Ella smiled. "It doesn't matter now. I've found what we're looking for. No thanks to you."  
  
Char elbowed her teasingly in the side, but she just smiled slyly. "Of course, I don't _have_ to show you what I found..."  
  
Mandy and Char quickly sat up straight, their faces sheepish. "We'll be good," they chimed together. Ella grinned, and once again picked up the thick, green-velvet covered book, her finger carefully holding the correct page.  
  
"All right," she began. "Chapter Five: The Beginning of Traditions. Page 132, starting at paragraph two, called, 'The Binding of Kyrria and Ayorthia.'"  
  
Char groaned. "We don't care _where_ it is in the book, we just care _what_ it says."  
  
Ella gave him a stern look, but her eyes were twinkling when she continued. _"And so it came to be in the 634th year after the falling of the Old Empire that an Ayorthian peasant boy named Rashnae met a met a princess of royal Kyrrian heritage by the name of Stella, the only direct descendent of the King and the late Queen of that time, Gatlnta and Methra. They met by the sacred waterfall at the border of Ayorthia and Kyrria, called Menel-nen. The peasant was gathering water from the well near-by, called the nen-mel well, famous for it's rich water, and the Princess Stella was watering her horse Stardust, who was white with gray twinkles in his fur.  
  
"Now, Stella was born in the 617th year after the falling of the Old Empire, the First-Born of the Queen Methra and King Gatlnta. The Queen died giving birth to Stella, for she had been ill in the weeks before her daughter's birth, and though the daughter was strong and healthy, the Queen passed away that very night, at the side of the grief-stricken Gatlnta.  
  
"Gatlnta was heart-broken, and refused to remarry to a wife who could bear him a son, even for the good of the kingdom. Despite the fact that the crown is traditionally passed down to the eldest son, Stella received the crown in later years, having no brother.  
  
"The boy Rashnae's parents were common peasants like the boy Himself, called Blamea and Wefrado. They lived on the edge of Ayorthia, in the town of Tion, and owned a small wood-work shop in the market of Tion.  
  
"When the girl and boy met, they were the ages of seventeen (Stella) and eighteen (Rashnae). To the best recorded knowledge, the exchange that took place is..."  
_  
Ella looked, shaking her head and blinking quickly, as if to clear her eyes. "It gets pretty tedious from there, going on to say what they said, what they wore, etc. I can almost see why you wouldn't pay attention during this lesson," she gave in reluctantly. "_Almost_. Apparently, it was love at first sight between them, and they were married-" she ruffled through the pages- "two weeks later."  
  
"It was love at first sight when I met _you_," began Char to Ella, "but we weren't married until almost two _years_ later." He pretended to be highly offended.  
  
"Yes," agreed Ella solemnly, "and I _only_ went to finishing school, captured a band of ogres, attended a giant's wedding, gained two stepsisters, slaved away as an unwilling servant, attended three balls, _and_ that's not to mention breaking a curse that haunted me for sixteen years." She stuck her tongue out at her husband, and glanced at Mandy out of the corner of her eye, who was hiding a grin.  
  
Char pulled a long face. "She's right, as always," he sighed ruefully, "but I _will_ remind you that you had more than a little help capturing that band of ogres."  
  
Ella glared at him. "Keep your high-flown ideas to yourself," she replied loftily. "You could have hardly done a thing without me. Besides," she said, deftly changing the subject, "I think it's high time we get back to our book." She turned her back on them both.  
  
"Slave-driver."  
  
Ella whipped back around, but both Mandy and Char were absorbed in examining the carpet and their finger nails, and she could not tell who had spoken. Ella sniffed, and picked up the green-covered book in an attempt to regain her dignity. She looked down her nose at her companions as an irritated school teacher might glare over her spectacles to gain the attention of her students.  
  
"Can I _please_ get on with what I was saying, before I was so very rudely interrupted?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Mandy and Char looked so much like perky, bright-eyed, obedient students eager to learn about their favorite subject, that Ella simply set down the book and laughed. The "perky, bright-eyed" students also began chuckling, than chortling, than finally breaking into full-fledged laughs.  
  
Three friends together, their laughter ringing out the open library door and bouncing merrily off the corridor walls. If you had asked any of the three what they were laughed about, not one could have truthfully said. But no one asked, and after a few moments of pure happiness, their laughter died, and they were all left staring at the green and gold book, which sat quietly, almost patiently, waiting for them to open it and reveal it's contents.  
  
They all settled themselves comfortably, and for the third time, Ella opened the thick book to the marked page. As if she had never left off, she began again.  
  
"In the two weeks before they were married, everyone got used to the idea of a lowly peasant marrying one of high rank, and by the day of the wedding, most were more glad at the two kingdoms joining than aghast.  
  
"It goes on, describing the wedding, with Ayorthians and Kyrrians both, dancing and being merry with one another like never before. And- oh, Char, look!" she suddenly exclaimed. "They were married in the old castle, the one abandoned two generations back, when you're father was a boy. My father married Olga there; do you remember?"  
  
Char nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. "We never did find the rumored passage-way."  
  
"The passage! I had almost forgotten. We did find those glass slippers, though. But- oh, I never did ask. Was your father quite angry with you because of your torn buttons?"  
  
"Angry?" said Char. "I should say not! He just laughed it off, like he always does. Even more so when I explained what happened to them, and what we were doing."  
  
Mandy looked bewildered. "What on earth are you two prattling on about?"  
  
Ella giggled. "Never mind, Mandy. We'll talk about things you do understand." Her eyes skimmed the book in her hands. "Mandy, dear, do you know that most wedding and births take place with at least one fairy present?"  
  
"Why, of course!" Mandy scoffed. "It would hardly be proper without one. After all, both Lucinda and myself were there when you were born. That Lucinda! It would have been better if she hadn't come at all. I alone would have sufficed. Making you suffer needlessly for sixteen years, the cheek!" Her face got very red as it did when she was becoming upset.  
  
Ella laid a hand on her arm. "Mandy, that's all in the past," she said gently. "I don't hold a grudge against Lucinda, and there's no reason you should. And remember, some good came of it. You and I showed her how much people suffered because of her gifts when she would not see herself. She knows better now. No more big magic."  
  
"Yes, like turning a pumpkin into a coach isn't big magic," huffed Mandy, but she consented to calm down as Ella continued.  
  
"Of course, this wedding was no exception. Quite the opposite, really. No less than nine fairies attended the marriage of Stella and Rashnae, all bringing glorious gifts. A sudden though struck Ella. "Mandy, were you one of those nine fairies?"  
  
Mandy beamed with pride. "Yes, I was there at the joining of Kyrria and Ayorthia."  
  
"And what was your gift to them?" asked Char curiously.  
  
"I gave them a large set of china, enough for the entire castle. Every piece was enchanted so it could not be broken. Small magic, of course."  
  
"That's a perfectly lovely gift," smiled Ella, going back to the book. "Beautiful and practical." She cleared her throat. "Now where was I?"  
  
"The fairy gifts."  
  
"Ah, yes, the fairy gifts. It described them all- yes, here's the dishes that cannot be broken- wonderfully, lots of details. Finally, here it is, the passage I have been searching for all along! I don't wish to leave anything out, so I shall read it directly from the book instead of summarizing.  
  
_ "And the ninth fairy, the fairy Valitia, stepped up to the new King and Queen, to give them her gift. 'Oh, wise rulers!' exclaimed this fairy. 'You have been given the gifts of strong and healthy children, beautiful descendants, wise offspring. Along with many useful material gifts. But I also shall give a gift of magic. Not a gift made from magic, or with magical uses, but a true gift of magic.'  
  
She took a step closer, and raising her voice so every person in the crowd could hear, she cried, 'Stella and Rashnae, hear my words! A child shall be born of you who will bear a great Gift! A Gift of Seeing, that will allow your first-born, boy or girl, to see into the past, back into the future, know and learn more about the present than any other. Your first-born and every third generation after that shall bear this Gift. Heed my words. Use it wisely, use it well.'  
  
And with that, she clasped her hands together and bowed, before melting into the crowd."  
  
_ Ella slowly lowered the book, Mandy and Char shocked at what they had heard, how it related directly to them. Overcome, they stared at each other in silence.  
  
-  
  
I hope you r happy with that chapter, i think it's one of my longest yet. we were gone a week on vacation, and i wrote a lot then. all my other chapters have been sort of dramatic and melancholy. i hope this one comes across as a little more light-hearted. i hope i get lots of reviews for it, because i only got two for the last two chapters i put up, please humor me!

i just had a nifty idea. i've used '_Your Ancestors and the Way They Ruled: A Guide For Young Princes'_ in both of my fanfics now, and it's been fairly important in this one, so you know like the Quidditch and Magical Beasts books in Harry Potter? Maybe i could actually write the whole book of 'Your Ancestors...' whaddya think?


	10. Chapter 10

I was reading back through _Canyssa's Choice_ and I realized it's a really bad piece of writing. I started it last year, and my writing has improved so much since then (I think, lol) I think I'll take it off and rewrite it eventually, but for now I'm going to concentrate on _Char's Choice_. If anyone wants me to leave it up, please e-mail me or review. Otherwise I think I'll take it down. Does anyone know if I'll lose my reviews if I do that? Thanks for reading. :) arquen


	11. not actually a chaper

Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness also holds a sense of inevitability based on the protagonist's name: Marlow, meaning "driftwood" (). Driftwood, though it does travel by means of water, has no true purpose, no ultimate destination, and often moves at the whims of currents, tides, and humans. Indeed, the initial description of Marlow reflects such a restless personality: "He was a seaman, but he was a wanderer, too, while most lead, if one may so express it, a sedentary life" (Conrad 67). Marlow's decision to travel down the river to the Congo is sparked by this inborn desire to wander, a desire reinforced by his subconscious knowledge of the meaning of his name, for he admits that thought he had a fine job in London, "after a bit I did get tired of resting" (71). He has no concrete reason to travel into the heart of Africa besides this fact that he is restless. Even when he makes his own decision to travel, even deciding where he would like to go, Marlow remains at the mercy of the whims of human beings, for he must turn to his aunt to even secure a place on a steamboat. He is forced to wander, but is not granted the will to determine where his feet will lead him. Indeed, without his aunt's help he would have been trapped in a current, just as dependent as driftwood in regards to his destination.

Paragraph here that I already typed up.

Marlow's journey into the Congo is also heavily influenced by another outside force: the man Kurtz, who bears the nickname of the German word for "short' (). Unlike Marlow's name, which must be interpreted literally, Kurtz bears a more ironic interpretation of his name, because it is only a nickname; Mr. Kurtz is anything but 'short.' His physical stature is an obvious joke, for "he looked at least seven feet long [. . .] I could see the cage of his ribs all astir, the bones of his arm waving" (140). Kurtz is tall to begin with; his emaciated appearance makes him appear even more so. The irony of his name is also apparent in his worldly influence, for the name of Kurtz echoes throughout the jungle and down the river and engulfs the life of everyone who hears it. The reader is presented with the example of Marlow, who hears to the name but once and is unable to keep thoughts of this man out of his had forever after. After reading only one of his essays, Marlow concludes that "he was not common. He had the power to charm or frighten rudimentary souls into an aggravated witch-dance in his honour" (128). Such is the true expression of Kurtz; contrary to the man's name, his reach is terribly long.

After Kurtz dies, after this intense human influence has disappeared, true to his name, Marlow is able to once again return to the river of chance on which he travels, to be tossed about by any waves that may come his way. Like driftwood, he is destined to continue wandering for the duration of his life, tossed about on a whim. Indeed, the reader is aware from the placement of the frame story that when he returns from the Congo he is once again on a boat, though on a different river. The story he tells to the seamen on this boat and his deliberate, thoughtful style of speech indicates that he will not only spend his life physically wandering between lands and rivers, but between the thoughts and reflections in his brain as well, an inevitable path that he will walk until he drifts with the wind unto the shores of death.

In William Golding's The Lord of the Flies, names hold just as great a meaning as those in the other two books. The name of the novel's protagonist foreshadows both his role in the group of boys that crash on the island, and what they will eventually become: Ralph, meaning "wolf council" (). Though the obvious leader of the boys is Jack, the lead choir coy, "There was a stillness about Ralph as he sat that marked him out: there was his size, and attractive appearance; and most obscurely, yet most powerfully, there was the conch" (Golding 22). Ralph holds the conch and therefore the power to call the boys to council; since this reference to council is in the very definition of his name, it becomes inevitable that he is elected leader, for his actions must reflect the meaning of his name, and only be his becoming leader can this be done.

However, the second half of the definition of Ralph's name must come true. When the boys initially choose their leader, he is leading just that: boys. In order for Ralph to truly fulfill his destiny, though, they must transform into wolves of a sort. Such is the cleverness of Golding, that he uses not only the actions of the boys to prove that everyone has an inherent savage desire within them, but their names as well, the gripping meaning of that one word that is born with a person and stays with him until he dies, influencing his every action and decision.

Naturally, this transformation into animals does not happen literally; rather, the change occurs inside of the boys. As time goes on, they do not simply turn wild, but currish. One description of the boys reads, "At once the crowd surged after it, poured down the rock, leapt onto the beast, screamed, struck, bit, tore. There were no words, and no movements but the tearing of teeth and claws" (153). The boys do not literally possess claws, but they have become so animalistic that it is instinct to them to use their hands as if they do. They are willing to kill with their bare hands for the sake of the taste of raw flesh; they become wolves and the second half of Ralph's name is inevitably fulfilled.

Another character who lives up to his name is perhaps one of the most savage of the boys, the "renowned spearman" (), Roger. When living off of the island, Roger has no conceivable way to live up to the literal definition of his name, but when he lands on the island, opportunities to do just this are boundless, and Roger takes advantage of them with a vengeance. Naturally when the boys split into two groups, he stays with Jack, for with him he has the opportunity to release the frustration he has been building all his life at his inability to meet the destiny of his own name. When they are hunting the sow, "Roger ran round the heap, prodding with his spear whenever pigflesh appeared. Jack was on top of the sow, stabbing downward with his knife. Roger found a lodgment for his point and began to push till he was leaning with his whole weight." (139). Roger does not use a knife to hunt as Jack does, for he cannot feel satisfied unless he possesses a spear. He and Jack are the true hunters, the only ones who have the ability to bring down a pig, for they are relentless and determined to do so as the others are not. Jack is inspired by his role of leadership, but Roger's key inspiration is his name and the inherent desires that come with it that influence his every decision and action and lead him on to fulfill his destiny of becoming the island's foremost spearman.

Mary Shelley, Joseph Conrad, and William Golding all make great use of the meanings of the names of their characters to add further meaning to the actions and destinies of their characters, though all do by utilizing different techniques. Shelley develops the relationship between Victor and Elizabeth by constantly reminding the reader of their discordant oaths: Elizabeth's to God and Victor, and Frankenstein's to the world and himself. Though she initially introduces Elizabeth by emphasizing the natural connection that exists between her and Victor, the tragedy of the failed strength of this bond is only heightened once the reader realizes that because of their names, the marriage of the two can never be. Loyalty to the meaning of their names, essentially loyalty to their true selves, must take precedence over each other. The reader can only weep at the inevitability of such a paradox.

Conrad uses the meanings of his characters names to develop their traits further. In Kurtz, he uses the irony of his name in juxtaposition to his true characteristics to emphasize how he rises above the shortcomings that were inherent in him from his birth. Though Marlow does not do the same, Conrad still uses the meaning of his name to instill sympathy in the reader for this character, and to remind them that to drift aimlessly in life, pulled by the whims of others, is no shame, but a burden to be borne like any other. Marlow makes the best of this burden that he must bear by spreading his story wherever he goes, and by having him do as much, Conrad conveys to the reader that he must similarly find the blessing in his own hardships.

Golding uses the names of his own characters in yet a third way: through them he merely reinforces his already established conviction that in every man there is a basic, savage desire that will come out if he is placed in a natural setting that reflects that desire. By implying that Ralph must fulfill his destiny of becoming a council leader of wolves, and Roger a master spearman, Golding is merely stating that even the most civilized person will follow his instincts if given the chance, even if it only means responding to the meaning of his own name. When emphasized using names, a part of himself that no human can deny, the reader is forced to recognize such a theme.

Whether they know it or not, whether they have read these books or remain ignorant of their messages, all people place a great value in the meanings of their own names and the names of those around them. When new parents pour over books to discover a name to fit their child, they consciously select names of ancestors, biblical figures, or merely one that strikes their fancy; only subconsciously do they realize that the name that they pick holds within it their child's future, their ultimate purpose in life, their , William. Lord of the Flies. The Berkeley Publishing Group nyny 1954

Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein.Colburn and Bentley London 1831

Conrad, Joseph. Heart of Darkness.  Penguin Books Ltd NYNY 1997


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